


However long the night

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-27
Updated: 2007-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was Rodney. He hadn't been dead when John had left. So he must have recovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	However long the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lavvyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavvyan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Waves Breaking on the Shore](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/41464) by lavvyan. 



> Sequel to lavvyan's ["Waves Breaking on the Shore"](http://lavvyan.livejournal.com/99797.html). The title is from the African Proverb "However long the night, the dawn will break."
> 
> Warnings: Deals with the aftermath of rape. Alcoholism.

He quickly walked home, avoiding people left and right of him, wary of any touch and any moment longer out here than necessary. His dark little apartment was waiting for him.

As was a glass of whiskey.

He hardly saw the faces on the people walking past him. They didn't matter. Nothing much really mattered. He turned the corner and then he was almost there. He pulled the keys out of his pocket, unwilling to waste a second, when his gaze fell on the car in front of his apartment building.

He stopped in his tracks.

It had been a while since this had last happened. In the beginning, when he'd just returned to Earth, he'd kept seeing Rodney's face in the crowd. Just a glimpse, gone when he'd tried to focus on it, but still clear enough that John could see the expression on his face which was always one of two things:

Full of accusation or dead.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He really needed a drink.

When he looked up again at the car, ready to find it empty or occupied with a stranger, it was still Rodney.

He stared at John with a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and irritation.

The keys in John's hand were suddenly like lead and his mouth became so dry that he swallowed repeatedly, with no effect.

It couldn't be Rodney. Rodney was—

An image of Rodney lying in the infirmary with his open eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling popped into John's mind.

John closed his eyes again, trying to calm himself down and deal with this logically. Unfortunately he kept thinking that he could _really_ use a drink right about now, which wasn't helping. _Focus_ he told himself.

He opened his eyes again, looking at Rodney, who was frowning now, mouth forming a tight line.

This was Rodney. He hadn't been dead when John had left. So he must have recovered.

It should have been a relief, but John was only filled with dread. He started sweating, even though it was quite cold for the time of year.

He didn't know what to do. He _wanted_ to go up to his apartment, have a drink, and forget this ever happened. He'd become an expert on that. Both drinking and forgetting.

But some part of him knew that he couldn't just leave Rodney sitting in the car without saying something to him. So he tried to pull himself together and walked over to the car.

Rodney followed him with his eyes, but made no attempts to get out of the car.

Maybe he had to leave soon, John thought hopefully. When he realized what he was thinking, he mentally chastised himself. Here was a man whom he hadn't seen in almost two years, who'd been his best friend, whom he'd failed when he would have needed John the most, and who obviously wanted to see him for whatever reasons.

It was those reasons that John was afraid of.

He stopped next to the car and watched Rodney as he lowered the side window.

They just looked at each other, and John wondered what Rodney saw, the clothes that hung a little more loosely on John, the beard that he couldn't be bothered to shave most of the time. The man he used to know. But they both remained silent and with each passing second the weight of having to say something, anything, was getting heavier on John's shoulders.

"Rodney," he finally managed to get out, and it didn't sound like his own voice to him.

"John," Rodney answered, and he looked almost surprised after he said it.

Maybe it was as hard for Rodney as for him to say something. Maybe it was harder. John wanted to feel compassion, but a petty part of his mind thought that Rodney had _chosen_ to come here, whereas John hadn't had a choice.

He flashed back to the beach and Rodney, tied to the log, helpless, without any choice at all on what was done to him.

John wanted to run away and hide. He didn't know what Rodney _wanted_ from him. He only knew that it couldn't be anything good, because John had let everything good that there'd been be destroyed.

"I was visiting my sister," Rodney said.

John nodded automatically. "How is Jeannie?" he heard himself ask. It was almost as he was standing beside himself watching this bizarre conversation. As if they were just friends who hadn't seen each other in a long time. As if John _hadn't_ sent Rodney to be punished in the most inhumane way imaginable.

"She's okay."

John nodded again and forced something to his face that he hoped resembled a smile. He didn't think he could stand here much longer. He could say that he had to go. But suddenly he realized that Rodney had found out where he lived. Maybe he'd know that it was a lie, that John never had anywhere to go.

Damn, what was he supposed to do? Just stand here, when this was the last place he wanted to be at the moment and when Rodney really didn't seem too keen on being here either? John decided to take a chance.

"Do you want to come up?" he asked, silently praying that Rodney would say no and then he could finally go and have a drink and another until he passed out from it.

Rodney hesitated. John felt himself beginning to sweat. It was cooling his skin and sent shivers down his spine.

"Okay," Rodney said, looking not particularly enthusiastic about the idea, and John wanted to ask _Why are you saying yes, then?_

Rodney moved up the side window again, and John tried to pull up a mental image of his apartment. Was it clean? Were his clothes lying around? Rotten food? Empty bottles?

Rodney opened the door of the car, looking at John. John got out of the way and took another step back for good measure. Then he turned around and wanted to reach into his pockets for his keys, when he realized they were already in his hands.

He walked to the entrance of his apartment building, keenly aware of Rodney standing a bit further behind him, waiting.

It took three tries to get the key inside, and John cursed silently. Then he wrestled the door open and stepped inside holding the door open for Rodney and letting go as soon as he got it.

John almost sprinted up the stairs. Maybe he could buy himself just a few seconds to clean up the worst. He entered his apartment, leaving the door open for Rodney, who followed slowly.

A quick scan told John that the worst were the two bottles in the sink which he shoved into the next cabinet and the porn magazine on the couch which he hid under a slightly stained pillow.

When he turned around, Rodney entered, carefully looking around.

John wondered if he was always like this now, assessing every room he entered for potential threats to his life and body. Or maybe it was just because it was _John's_.

But then Rodney relaxed and after a moment's hesitation closed the door behind him.

John looked at him, then his gaze turned longingly to the bottles on the kitchen cabinet as if by force.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked Rodney, wishing it would sound more casual.

"Water will be fine."

John nodded and went the long way round the couch so that he didn't have to go past Rodney. Then he remembered. "I only have tap water," he said apologetically.

"No problem," Rodney said.

John opened up a cabinet above him and sent a silent _Thank you_ to whoever was responsible for him having two clean glasses. He filled Rodney's glass with water and put it on the table between them, then poured himself a whiskey, trying to ignore the shaking of his hand.

His mouth seemed to become dryer every second that he waited for Rodney to take a sip of his drink, then John could finally put his own glass to his lips and feel the liquid burn down his throat.

He could see Rodney watching him, and he felt self-conscious, but God, he'd really needed that.

After finishing half of it, he put down the glass and exhaled. He felt more human now, slightly more ready to face Rodney.

Rodney was still standing between the door and the kitchen table. John was leaning against the cabinet on the other side of the table.

"So you'll be back to Atlantis soon?" he asked.

"Probably, yeah," Rodney said.

John was surprised. It seemed unlike Rodney to stay away from Atlantis for so long and to not even know when he returned. Then again, he didn't even know what Rodney's life on Atlantis was like these days.

"Uh, we got the midway station working, so we're more flexible now. Only takes a few hours. Well, that and a medical exam and tons of paperwork. But it's much better than with the Daedalus."

John nodded. That explained it. He wondered what else had changed since he left. Maybe they rotated personnel more these days, now that they could go back to Earth on such short notice. It would also make Atlantis more attractive for people with family. He suddenly thought of Carson.

"Must be nice. So Carson gets to see his Mom now more often," he said with a genuine smile now.

Rodney looked at him for a second before flatly saying, "He's dead."

The smile slipped from John's face, and he automatically lifted the glass to his lips and finished it off before pouring himself another one.

Carson dead. Why? How? He suddenly thought of Carson in the Chair, how much he'd dreaded it. With John gone, maybe they didn't have any other way but to make _him_ take the responsibility to defend Atlantis. Maybe that had killed him. Maybe that was another life that—

"It was an explosion. He'd done an operation and...he died saving lives," Rodney finished.

John didn't know what to say. He took a sip from his drink and sat down at the table.

Rodney hesitated for a moment, then sat down opposite of him.

John didn't dare to say anything more. Who else was dead? What else had happened?

But Rodney seemed to read his mind, which was a scary thought actually, and said, "Ronon and Teyla are fine. She's pregnant."

John's eyes widened. He tried to imagine Teyla with a baby, but it was hard to picture when he remembered her as a tough fighter with a wise outlook and sticks always at the ready.

"The father is Athosian. They started dating a year or so ago. It wasn't planned, but I think she's happy."

"That's great," John managed, even though he was still more bewildered than anything.

"Elizabeth is also doing fine. She still has to fight the SGC and the IOA, but that's not new. And Colonel Lorne is doing okay."

"Colonel?" John asked automatically. Then he remembered his own promotion after his CO had... died.

"Yes, they sent over someone else after...you left, but he died after a few months. Wraith. Lorne took over again temporarily and Elizabeth put in a good word for him."

John nodded. It was a relief to know that the others were still alive.

Of course this left the obvious question. He was afraid to ask, afraid of what Rodney would say. Although he suspected that if Rodney had wanted to shout accusations at him, he would have done so by now.

John took another sip of his drink. "How are you?" he asked because fear or not, it had to be asked and a part of him really wanted to know.

Rodney looked at him and for a moment John wondered if he hadn't understood the question. Which was ridiculous, unless it wasn't so much _what_ he'd asked, but _that_ he'd asked.

But then Rodney answered. "I'm okay," he said shortly. He looked around the room, even though John's kitchen-dining-room-living-room combo wasn't really anything to look at, then nodded and turned back to John. "I'm head of science again now. Back on missions, on Lorne's team. So, really, back to..." he trailed off gesturing with his hand in something that John guessed meant 'the way things were before'.

He didn't buy it though, because Rodney's gaze drifted away as he said it, and even if John hadn't read up on rape recovery when he'd first returned home, he would have known that it wasn't that simple.

John wanted to feel relief that Rodney appeared to be doing well, considering the circumstances. But looking at him, he knew that it wasn't the full truth, and it brought home the simple fact that John's failure to protect him had changed Rodney's life irrevocably.

He looked at his glass and contemplated the wisdom of getting really drunk before Rodney left. He set down the glass and looked at Rodney again.

Rodney's gaze flickered to him and away again, then he got up and walked towards the living room part of the room, before turning to John again.

"It's not perfect obviously. There are situations—" he stopped himself. "But I'm doing okay," he said decisively. "I went to the Benari last month," he said, looking straight at John.

John couldn't believe what he heard. One of his last actions as military commander had been to erase the address from the database. That anyone would make him go back there... But he looked at Rodney, and he looked stubborn and almost proud. Maybe he'd needed that. It wasn't as if John had any idea what he'd gone through, what his recovery process had been and still was.

"It was the last thing I had to do," Rodney said. "Well, in my mind. Unfortunately Chad didn't agree. Neither did Kate, I think."

John looked at him, but there was no more explanation forthcoming, so he asked, "Chad?"

Rodney watched him for so long that it made John uncomfortable. He had a weird feeling suddenly, and then Rodney said, "My boyfriend."

John stared, then looked away at the table, where his gaze fell on his glass of whiskey, as if it had been waiting for just this moment. He briefly considered what it would look like when he took another sip now, but in the end he didn't care, because nothing could have prepared him for this.

He gulped down the rest of the whiskey in one go and let himself be distracted by the heat that settled down his throat in his stomach.

Rodney had a boyfriend.

John flashed back to every encounter with a guy that he'd had since he came back to Earth. Every time that he'd let a guy fuck him, imagining it was Rodney, reclaiming back what had been taken from him. John hadn't allowed himself to come in any of these encounters. He didn't deserve it.

He also didn't deserve thinking about Rodney when he masturbated. He really only would have deserved to think about what he'd done to Rodney, but he hadn't been strong enough for that, so he'd soon begun to just try and forget Rodney except when he felt a guy fucking him and he imagined himself in the place of Rodney on that beach on a planet millions of light years away.

John got up and poured himself another glass of whiskey.

"Is that your answer to everything? I read in your file that they suspect that you're an alcoholic, but I didn't really believe it."

John turned around, gripping the glass with both hands. He wasn't used to accusation anymore. He never stayed anywhere long enough for people to care. He forced himself to put down the glass without drinking from it.

"I'm not an alcoholic," John said with as much conviction as he could muster. "I like to drink. It makes me feel better. But I do my job, I pay the rent."

"What job exactly is that?" Rodney asked condescendingly, and John was suddenly angry.

Who the hell did Rodney think he was, coming in here and judging his life? He knew that he'd messed up, and he would more than deserve if Rodney shouted at him for letting it happen that one man after another violated him until Rodney had lost his mind. But this?

"What does it matter?" he asked, trying to stay calm, longing for the glass of whiskey next to him.

"'What does it matter?' I don't know, I'm just curious what made you give up life on Atlantis. Forgive me for failing to see the glamor in this," Rodney said, making a sweeping gesture around John's battered apartment.

"I _left_ because there was nothing left for me to _do_ on Atlantis. I _failed_. My job was to protect the city and _everyone_ in it."

Rodney stared at him. "What?"

"I failed to protect you," John managed. "I'm sorry. God, there isn't a day that I'm not sorry about that." He took a shaky breath, and it felt good to finally have said it, even if it didn't mean _anything_.

But it seemed to mean even less than that to Rodney. " _That_ 's why you left? Out of _guilt_?" Mixed in with his anger seemed utter failure to comprehend now.

"There was nothing more I could have done."

"Oh, is that so?" Rodney shouted and stalked through the room towards him. John grabbed the cabinet behind him. "Because obviously it was too much to ask to be _there_ for me and _help_ me get _through_ this."

Rodney stood in front of him now, and John had to be leaning against the cabinet because he couldn't remember Rodney being taller than him. He didn't know what to say. But it wasn't necessary because Rodney wasn't finished.

"I would have thought you'd learned long ago that you can't save everyone. These things _happen_. It took me a while to accept it, but there was nothing that any of us could have done about it. It was bad luck. But you leaving was your _choice_. You _chose_ to take the easy way out instead of watching me go through this."

John wanted to shout that it _hadn't_ been easy, that he'd left because he thought there was nothing left to save, but now when he was faced with Rodney's anger, Rodney who _wasn't_ the same as he had been before, but who was still Rodney, John realized that maybe he _had_ taken the easy way out.

How long had it taken for Rodney to give any sign of life again? How long would John have had to watch him avoid contact with others, maybe even with John? And that had been really it, hadn't it? That even if there'd been hope for Rodney to get out of his state at the time, there'd been no hope for John to ever be trusted again. Except maybe there had.

John didn't want to believe it. "Do you really think you would have wanted me around you?" he asked quietly. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted Rodney to answer.

Rodney looked at him, really looked at him, as if he needed to see inside John to answer. "Yes, I really think I would have wanted you around," he eventually said, all anger gone from his voice.

John turned away, unable to face his sincerity. He didn't want to believe that he could have made a difference for Rodney. His gaze fell on the glass of whiskey. He licked his dry lips.

"Is that it?" Rodney asked loudly. Then the glass was in his hand and John followed it with his eyes as Rodney lifted it up. "Is this _all_ that matters in your life now?" he asked derisively.

John forced himself to look from the glass to Rodney's face.

"Is _this_ what you left me for?" Rodney asked quietly.

John couldn't bear it. He moved past Rodney, pushing the hand with the glass out of the way. "I left you because there was no _you_ left," he said, not looking at Rodney. He didn't even know why this was about _them_ now. He hadn't known that there'd been a _them_. Not like this, not on this level, which made John suddenly wonder about that boyfriend of Rodney's.

God, he hated his own thoughts. He'd done everything wrong, and he'd gotten so used to feeling sorry for himself that it was hard to remember other people existed in this world, people that he cared about.

And he had no right at all to be jealous.

He flinched when there was a hand on his arm. Rodney stilled, then turned him around.

"They didn't kill me. What happened to 'Leave no man behind'?" Rodney asked, as if it was a reasonable question.

John didn't think he could take much more of this. "I brought you home," he said calmly, knowing that it wasn't what Rodney meant, but he really didn't have anything to say that he hadn't said already. He was sorry, he'd screwed up, he'd fucked up so badly that nothing would ever make it okay again. Was that what Rodney wanted to hear?

"But why did you have to _go_?" Rodney asked, and it sounded so plaintive that John could only shout his answer.

"You weren't _there_ any longer! You lay in that stupid bed and everything that was you was _gone_. They've _taken_ it from you, and it was _my fault_. I _did_ this to you, Rodney. I'm so sorry." He turned away because tears were forming in his eyes, and he couldn't face Rodney any longer.

"Chad and Kate said I should talk to you, and I think they were right, although maybe not for _my_ sake, but for _yours_."

John covered his eyes with his hands and took a deep breath. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve that Rodney cared at all, much less that he felt compassion. He was almost afraid that Rodney would hug him or even just put a hand on his back or arm in reassurance, even if a part of him wanted it badly.

"I didn't want to talk to you," Rodney continued. "I didn't even want to _think_ about you. When I found out you'd left I was in no position to deal with it, so I just sort of removed it from my mind completely. I actually asked after you a couple of times in the very beginning because I'd simply forgotten that you were gone."

John carefully turned around to face Rodney. This was easier to take than Rodney's sympathy. Rodney wasn't even looking at him. He had a far away look as if recalling the time he was talking about.

"And it's been like that ever since. There's always been some obstacle to tackle. I...I couldn't do anything in the beginning. It was a fight to be in a room with anyone other than a small group of people. I didn't eat in the mess for half a year. I went on a mission again for the first time after over a year and it went pretty badly, but I survived and could actually fix the power supply for the generator." Rodney smiled and then looked at John.

His smile softened. "I thought I could just forget you ever existed."

John couldn't help the little gasp. Hearing what Rodney had been through made him incredibly proud of him. He'd done it all without John. So why _would_ he think about John? Why _had_ he come back?

He didn't ask those questions out loud though. Instead he watched as Rodney walked to the window, looking through the blinds.

"You can see the ocean from here," he pointed out as if he wasn't sure that John knew. He turned to John. "I've been back to the beach— _that_ beach—when I visited the Benari. It's just a beach." He shook his head. "Just a normal beach. They were very friendly. They remembered me. They asked after _you_."

He looked at John. John waited for him to continue, but when he didn't, he said, "What did you tell them?"

"Nothing." He looked out of the window again and turned back. "It was good to go back there. I think I needed to face...to face the people who did this to me, who _raped_ me."

John swallowed. It was the first time that Rodney had said the word. John had a feeling that he didn't say it often, that saying it now was part of facing it, of accepting it as something that had happened, in order to put it in his past.

"And this," Rodney gestured towards John and then himself, "is my last bit of therapy. Well, last in the sense of doing what I haven't done already. I don't think I'll ever stop having therapy. But then I did it before so that's not necessarily...bad."

John didn't know what exactly Rodney expected. He didn't know what Kate and...Chad expected. "What can I do to help you?" he asked. Because he wanted to help Rodney. If he could, he finally wanted to help Rodney.

"Well," Rodney looked away, then walked to the couch behind which John was standing and sat down. He looked uncomfortable. "I don't really know how to say this."

He sounded almost embarrassed. John walked around the couch and sat down at the other end, as far away as possible from Rodney. Rodney still shifted and picked at the pillow and suddenly John remembered what was lying underneath, but it was too late to say anything, not that he really _could_ have said anything. Rodney pulled out the porn magazine from beneath the pillow. The _gay_ porn magazine.

He looked at it, stared at it. "Wow, that..." He put it on the table in front of him, then turned to John. "I'm actually not sure if this makes it easier or harder."

"Makes _what_ easier or harder," John asked, because what he saw on Rodney's face almost looked like amusement.

Rodney turned to him, any mirth gone now. "I've never been with another man before I was raped." This time the hesitation before the word 'raped' only lasted a fraction. "But I wanted to. I wanted it _before_ it happened. I wanted it with _you_."

John's heart skipped a beat. A shiver ran down his spine, and his mouth suddenly went dry. He _wanted_ to ask 'Me?', but he didn't think he'd bring out anything but a croak at the moment.

Rodney looked away, at the porn magazine, before getting that faraway look again. "There was a part of me that thought the rape was some bizarre sign from God that feeling that way was _wrong_ , but then when I realized that I actually _wanted_ to have sex again, I tried to see it rationally. The rape had nothing to do with my feelings for you. It only robbed me of the chance to have a nice first time with a man."

"You can _still_ have that," John had to interject. If there was one thing that he remembered from reading about rape, it was that it wasn't about sex, it was about control and power and humiliation.

Rodney looked at him, surprised. "I know," he said, "and I did."

John felt something inside of him twist. Of course Rodney had had sex with a man now. He had a _boyfriend_. What had John thought? That they'd only held hands and cuddled and that Rodney was here to have his anal virginity taken by the man who'd first made him want it?

He still couldn't quite wrap his mind around Rodney wanting him. _Having_ wanted him. Frankly, he didn't think he _wanted_ to wrap his mind around it. He didn't think there was any space left on the list of things he'd done wrong.

"It wasn't easy at first, of course," Rodney confessed, "but Chad was very patient. He loves me."

John waited for Rodney to say the words. He waited for the 'And I love him', tried to prepare himself for it, but it didn't come.

Instead, Rodney said, "At least I think he does." John exhaled in relief. Not that it changed anything. Not that it _could_ change anything—for _him_.

Rodney looked at him, then away. "He thinks I still have feelings for you," he said. John didn't dare ask what he wanted to ask. He had no right. "He actually broke up with me over that," Rodney continued. And now John frowned, because Rodney had only spoken of his _boyfriend_ , not his _ex_ -boyfriend.

"Chad broke up with you because of me?" he asked for clarification.

"He said we could never be in a relationship if I didn't admit what I felt for you—or _had_ felt. I thought he was wrong. It was the first time that we really had a fight. He was always accepting and supportive." Rodney stood up and looked out of the window again. "I had to learn to accept and to admit so many things, so many painful things in the last years. What was done to me, that I couldn't have changed it, that it _has_ changed me, but also that it doesn't have to _control_ me. I thought I was finally at a point where there was nothing left that I was in denial about. I thought I was _free_."

"But you weren't," John said. And the idea that _he_ was holding back Rodney's progress was painful.

Rodney turned to him. "How can I say that my life is the way it was before when there's something so obvious missing." He took a few steps towards John. "I lost so much that day, but I fought to get it back. Only with you I tried to pretend it didn't matter."

So it did matter to Rodney. _He_ mattered to Rodney.

"Chad and Kate were right. I never dealt with my feelings for you and what it meant that you left me."

It still hurt to hear Rodney say that. John didn't want to believe that he'd contributed to Rodney's pain when all he'd wanted to do was avoid causing Rodney _more_ pain.

Rodney sat down again and looked straight at John. "I was in love with you."

John's heart beat wildly in his chest. The things that he never dared to admit to himself were fighting their way to the surface. He tried to keep them where they were. Rodney had said _was_ not _am_. And he shouldn't even think about that. This _wasn't_ about him. It had never been about him, even though John had always acted on his own feelings. From the moment he thought he'd lost Rodney, everything John had done had been _about_ Rodney—but not _for_ Rodney.

In reality John had only done it for himself: running away, trying to forget, trying to numb the pain, trying to punish himself. Nothing about that had been for Rodney. And it had to stop _now_.

Part of that was finally thinking of Rodney. And the last thing that Rodney needed was having to deal with a 42-year-old alcoholic, because if Rodney could admit things, _had_ to admit so many things to himself and to John, then John could do it too, at least in this instance. What John wanted couldn't matter. It only mattered what was best for Rodney.

He didn't know Chad, but from all that he'd heard, he'd done everything for Rodney that John hadn't been there for. He'd helped Rodney through this. He'd helped him accept and get comfortable in his body again. He'd been _good_ for Rodney, that much was clear just by looking at him.

There was no doubt at all that Chad would be better for Rodney than John. Unless he was right and Rodney did still love John.

"Wow, it took only two years of therapy to admit that," Rodney said, a smile playing on his face now. "Well, two years and however long I've been feeling that way before." He bit his lower lip. "So, I know that you're..." He looked at the porn magazine in front of him, then turned back to John. "But have you ever thought that way about me?"

John stared at him. The nervous and God, _hopeful_ note in Rodney's voice made him want to say _yes_ , made him want to tell Rodney that he _did_ feel like that, _had_ felt like that, long before everything had gone so terribly wrong.

But he couldn't. Because saying it wouldn't change the fact that they simply couldn't go back to that point. Even if they'd both felt that way two years ago, the things that had happened couldn't just be forgotten and more than that _John_ wasn't that person anymore.

Rodney had fought long and hard and _without_ John to get back to that point before the rape, but John had let it rule his life. He was so much more messed up than Rodney right now, and he wouldn't drag Rodney back down with him. They may have realized that they'd had a chance in the past, but they had no future and he wouldn't burden Rodney with his own hopes and wishes that were as far out of reach as the Pegasus Galaxy.

He tried to say _no_. He tried to bring the words past his lips, for Rodney's sake, but they wouldn't come and then, to John's relief, Rodney was speaking again.

"You're right. It shouldn't matter." Rodney shook his head. "It's not as if I could say, 'If you have feelings for me, I love _you_ , and if you don't, I love _him_.' That's not how it works. This is about _me_. That's what he said and he was right about that too."

The question of course was what _did_ Rodney feel? And what should John want? But as Rodney had said, it was just about him. "Do you love him?" _Him_ , not _me_ , because he didn't want to influence Rodney, didn't want to be selfish again.

Rodney looked away, thinking about it. "In a way I do," he said, without turning back to John. John tried to accept it as something good. When they loved each other, they could be happy together. If Rodney told Chad he loved him, he would surely take him back. But still, John couldn't shake the feeling that Rodney had doubts. And with that came hope for John, no matter how much he tried not to allow it.

"He was just a friend at first," Rodney continued, eyes at some faraway place. "I didn't even know he was gay. I actually asked him if he knew someone I could date—a guy. I never lied to him. I never told him I loved him." John couldn't help noticing the implication of that sentence, even as Rodney continued. "I was always honest with him. He _knew_ when we started dating that it wasn't so much about _him_ but about getting back control over my life. And he accepted that. He's a good friend." Rodney paused for a moment, frowning.

"Maybe we were never meant to be more than friends," he finally went on. Then he turned to John. "He's _quiet_. Not like you." He smiled. The smile faded. "I've never met anyone like you. I _miss_ you. I wish you were back in Atlantis. I...I wish I could have you both. Even just as friends, if that's what it takes. Maybe that's what I really need."

John wished it too. He wished he could be back in Atlantis. He wished he could be Rodney's friend again, if nothing more. He didn't even realize that he'd started nodding until Rodney asked, "You want to come back?"

There was no point in denying it now. "I want to," John admitted. "But I can't."

"Why not?"

John smiled shortly. It was wonderful of Rodney not to see the obvious. "They are not going to take someone back who's—" He made a drinking gesture.

"I thought you weren't an alcoholic."

John snorted. "Alcoholics lie about that. You should ask Kate. I'm sure she can tell you a lot."

"Admitting it is the first step," Rodney said, and he sounded so convinced that John wanted to believe it.

But the thing was, admitting it wasn't the first step. Deciding to stop was. He nodded and gave Rodney a quick smile.

Rodney smiled back, widely. "I could visit you in a month."

John suddenly remembered that Rodney was going to go again, very soon. And he was reminded of the changes in the last two years. You could visit again in the same time that it would have taken just to get back when he'd still been there.

He tried to imagine himself a month from now. He wouldn't lie to himself and say it would be easy. It wouldn't be and he'd have to do it alone. But he really wanted to go back. Not just for himself, but for Rodney. John's return was possibly the final thing that Rodney needed to get back to the way things were before. So John would try.

He nodded to Rodney. "That would be great. And I hope I'll have made progress by then—with getting back."

"You can do it," Rodney said decisively. "And once you're back in Atlantis, you can get help. You don't have to do it all alone. Teyla talked to Kate a lot after it happened. We all had to learn to deal with it. I had to learn that I didn't deserve this. And neither did you." His gaze fixed on John, as if he was trying hard to get through to him. "They did this to you too."

John briefly thought of how they'd sat in the sand and watched, knives pressed into their backs.

He nodded.

Rodney stood and they walked to the door together.

When Rodney turned to John, ready to say good-bye, John couldn't help himself. "What will you tell Chad?"

Rodney considered it for a moment before answering. "That I'll need more time. If I learned one thing in the last two years, it's that some things don't happen over night."

John nodded his acceptance. Then, before Rodney could speak again and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I did have feelings before...you were raped." It was hard to say it out loud, but if Rodney could do it, then so could he.

Rodney's eyes lit up. Maybe it was right to admit his feelings after all. It didn't mean that he expected anything. Rodney seemed to understand that. A smile played on his face, but didn't quite make it to his mouth.

Eventually Rodney nodded and left without another word.

John breathed deeply and looked around his apartment, which had never seemed so small and dark and battered before. This wasn't his home. And he couldn't wait to get back.

He went to the cabinet where the half-full glass still stood and emptied it into the sink. The smell of alcohol wafted up to him, tempting him, but John ignored it. He took the bottle and emptied it too, thinking about the smell of a city on the ocean.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

John looked around to see if Rodney had maybe left his keys or something here. He didn't immediately notice anything but opened the door.

Rodney looked at him, then pushed in, grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

John was too shocked to respond for a second, but then he realized what was happening and he kissed back. He kissed Rodney. He kissed someone for the first time since he was back on Earth, but that wasn't what made it so great.

It was the way Rodney's mouth opened up to get a better taste of John. It was the way his hands ran through John's hair and his body pressed against his.

And John's body pressed back. He wrapped his arms around Rodney and pushed out his tongue tentatively to be met by Rodney's. When he realized that he was pushing Rodney back into the door, John tried to back off, afraid to rush Rodney into something that he wasn't comfortable with, but Rodney wouldn't let him and pulled him back close.

It was only when John started thrusting against Rodney that Rodney withdrew from the kiss.

He looked at John with wide eyes, full of wonder. He moved a hand to touch John's beard, then he frowned. The frown disappeared when he smiled and moved his fingers to John's lips.

He pulled them away and kissed John once more, before gently pushing him away and disappearing again.

John stared at the closed door for a long while, still feeling Rodney's fingers and mouth on his lips.

That day he got rid of every drop of alcohol that he had in the apartment and called the SGC.

And that night, before he went to bed, he shaved off his beard.


End file.
